


Lyrium Song

by DiamondScribe (DiamondSuits)



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondSuits/pseuds/DiamondScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lyrium is more tempting than Fenris expects</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lyrium Song

The crystals sing to him.

The effect is not entirely unheard of. Fenris recalls the battle with Meredith, how she commanded statues, how she shook the earth itself with a single swing of her blade. Most striking, however, was the song. At the time, it had reminded him of what he had encountered in the Deep Roads. In the cold stone were deep veins of blue, molten metal that rushed and hummed through the walls like blood in some gigantic beast. It seemed so similar to the power Meredith wielded then, but now, he realizes how different they are.

Curiosity is not often his companion, but Fenris cannot ignore it when he catches the sight of crimson light from the other side of a boulder. As he draws closer, he realizes that there’s this odd chanting about it, a sound that comes not from it, but from Fenris himself, until his skin is practically buzzing with the music.

Approaching the crystal makes the song stronger, makes each line of liquid lyrium etched into his flesh burn and glow with a power he’s never known. It’s dangerous stuff, this he knows, but still he reaches, entranced by the glow of it, all fire and rubies and blood.

Far off, he hears the call of his name. The idea of Hawke finding him like this, reaching out to touch a thing that he knows is dangerous has him shaking his head with a sneer of distaste. He has no time for such nonsense; there are slavers to kill, miles to be covered.

All the same, if he breaks off the smallest of the shards to tuck into his pouch, that is no one’s business but his own.

* * *

Sometimes in the dead of night, when Hawke has slipped into the Fade and all is quiet, he takes out the little shard to watch it glow in the darkness. It’s like a flame he can hold, the light never flickering, never wavering. He find that rubbing it along the lyrium in his skin makes the song grow stronger, just for a moment.

He must have more.

* * *

Hawke is worried.

A natural reaction, Fenris supposes, but the matter is his alone. He grows more withdrawn when they’re alone, and when they battle, he tears with a ferocity he has not felt in years. Something within him is changing, he can feel it, can see that the milky lines in his skin are reddening with each passing day. Hawke frets, but Fenris assures him that he’s feeling fine.

He’s feeling better than ever, actually.

* * *

Fenris finally has it. Hawke doesn’t allow him to hunt alone anymore, but the mage must sleep (Fenris finds that he can’t drift off so easily, not with the power thrumming through his veins).

He rejoices when he finds it, and this time, his gauntlets thud to the ground without a trace of hesitation. The spires feel so wonderful against his hands. Fenris wants to rub against them like a cat, as even this small touch has the chanting surging and growing within him. It is with no small measure of happiness when he feels minuscule crystals begin to sprout along the lines in his arms.

This is right, he feels. This is what he’s always wanted, a power that the pride demon had promised, but better, somehow, because this is all his own. No man can take it from him. No man will even dare to try.

When Fenris leaves, he’s more satisfied than he’s felt in months. The way the crystals pierce his toes and leave crimson footprints ghosting behind him doesn’t matter when the song is soaring through his very soul.

* * *

Fenris needs no one.

Hawke covets his power. He sees the blood he leaves behind, sees the red within his skin, and when he shouts at Fenris, it is for want of the song. The crystals warn him about Hawke. They sing of his desire to take his power, his freedom, to place him back on that leash until he forgets what being a free man even tastes like. The crystals whisper to him constantly now, all warnings, all reminders that what he is may only be temporary if the proper precautions are not taken.

* * *

The crystals aren’t sated until Hawke’s blood mingles with the red of the lines in Fenris’s flesh.

* * *

“I don’t get it.”

The Inquisitor glances up to watch the dwarf pace back and forth. He’s done so for days now, with his eyes constantly darting to Skyhold’s doors as if he’s expecting the blessed Andraste herself to step forth at any moment.

“Hawke said he’d be here a fortnight ago. Why isn’t he here?”

The Inquisitor, used to this, merely offers a shrug.

“Keep waiting, Varric. You know what kind of dangers are out there. He’s probably working his way through Templars, or something. He’ll be here.”

“But this isn’t like him,” Varric insists. His eyebrows are drawn as he turns to face his leader. “Hawke would’ve said something by now. He would’ve sent a raven, a carrier pigeon, hell, a _nug_ if he thought it would get the message across.”

A hand is set on his shoulder, accompanied by a comforting squeeze.

“He’s the Champion of Kirkwall. Do you really think he’d get into some sort of trouble that he couldn’t get himself out of?”

Varric seems doubtful, but finally, his shoulders relax.

“Yeah,” he sighs, absentmindedly stroking his chin. “I guess you have a point.”

Varric waits.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun lil au thing :3 For Emma


End file.
